Fallout: From Frost
by Immortal13100
Summary: A young couple awakens to a new world after being subjected to experiments, and the kidnapping of their child. Using their skills, and working on networking, they will do everything they can to get back their child. Can they, or their relationship, survive?
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One: The Freezer**_

 _ **(Hey guys, just figured I'd start a new Fallout tale due to the release of the new game. I did not give up on my previous stories, but looking back, my original ones weren't good, and while I thank any who pshed through the crappy early chapters, I feel I owe it to potential future readers to make a story with a less rocky beginning. I shall continue all of my stories in an alternating pattern, and this will be my last one until at least two projects are ended. This will tie into my other Fallout story. Also, Fallout belongs to Bethesda.)**_

James awoke, still holding Shaun, now asleep. He was…cold. Then he remembered. The bombs. The vault. The pod. Blinking, he looked around, and was greeted by a group of people. Across from him, Beth was also coming to, but still locked in her pod.

"It's okay," said one man, balding with a scar and a voice as coarse as sandpaper. "Just give us the kid."

"No, I've got him," said James, starting to get out. "But my wif-"

"No, the kid," said the man, putting a .44 revolver in James's face. "I don't want to do this, but I will if I must."

Swallowing, James looked to his wife, watching the scene unfold like the audience of some horror movie. Only this was real. Thinking quickly, James knew he would be at a disadvantage if he tried to fight back. His limbs were stiff, he was disoriented, and he was unarmed.

"Hey pal," he said looking at Shaun, "it'll be alright." Handing him off to the man, he bit his lip, a mix of sadness and anger taking hold in him. As the pod closed, the man looked at both him and a visibly livid Beth.

"At least we have two backups, now," he said, before following out the team out with their son. The last thing James saw before going back under was Beth slamming her fists on the glass of the chamber…

Awakening to alarms, James and Beth both fell from their pods, feeling week. He had no idea how long it had been. It seemed like only a second since the scarred man came and stole his son, but with cryogenics involve, it could have been days, weeks, months….maybe even years. Shuddering from more than just the cold, he began to stand, only to be immediately punched across his face by Beth, knocking him back to the floor.

"You sonofabitch! How could you just hand him over? Your son," she said, fighting back tears. "What kind of father does that?"

"One that can get him back," said James, standing again, rubbing his (now sore) jaw. "I'm a solider, remember? Give me a weapon and a chance, and I can make sure we get him back. You know I love him. But I couldn't help him, or you, with a bullet in my brain." She stared at him, her obsidian black hair still tied back, contrasting her pale skin, often earning her the nickname "Snow White." Her blue eyes were probably the scariest thing that James had seen since Alaska. Especially when angry. Contrasting her porcelain appearance, he could see his reflection behind her: weathered, tanned, and dark, his hair grown to his neck. Scarred from his time in a prison camp.

"Damnit, James," she said, his words now sinking in. "Just…"

"Hey," he said, hugging her tightly. "We'll find him. It will be alright. But right now, we need to get out of here. Stay behind me in case any of those shits are still hanging about."

Nodding, she stepped behind him, as her checked the other pods. None would open. Somberly, they walked on, the alarm adding tension, the vault in a state of disarray. One thing was obvious: they had been out for more than a couple hours. Halting his wife, they stopped. Hearing something odd, they looked around the corner. She screamed, and he jumped from cover and stomp kicked the abomination before them: a roach about the size of a lap dog. As he did so, green gore splattered from the monstrosity, and he could see Beth fight to keep from evacuating her stomach.

"Giant roaches? What the hell," she said, coming over to observe. Despite its condition, it was obvious a roach of sorts. But massive.

"Well, maybe it's the radiation. Then we have been under at least a couple of years," he said, shrugging.

"Oh, right doctor, I forgot about your . in nuclear physics and entomology," she said, looking away. He ignored the barb. He never had a chance to seek a higher education, and this was always a sore spot for him. Leading on, they saw several more of the roaches, and James made quick work of them. With each one crushed, he pictured the man who took his son. He had every intention on inflicting pain upon him. But for now, these would do.

Looking around the room, he could tell they were in some generator room. Of course, the random arc of electricity hardly looked safe. He was curious as to how that occurred. Looking down, his eyes widened. Several skeletons were laid before them, in the vault suits and lab coats of the scientists. When did this happen. Looking over to check on Beth, he could see she was not taking any of this well at all.

Coming to the Overseer's office, he grabbed a pistol from the table. Looking around, he noticed a cage of supplies, a terminal, and a locked door. Opening his mouth to ask Beth to take a look at the terminal, he was surprised to find her already at work. Moving on to the cage, he found more ammunition, another pistol, and some sort of experimental cannon like device on display. The lock looked too advanced for him, so he left it. Placing the other pistol on the desk next to Beth, James cracked his neck.

"Found anything, babe?"

"Well, apparently the Overseer was an ass, and there was a revolt," she said, still skimming the records. "Oh, and this. Figured this would interest you." Suddenly, the door opened behind James, and he smiled. She may have been a lawyer, but Beth also knew her way around computers. Then, his smile faded as he heard more of the roaches scurrying down the hallway. Beth picked up the pistol, put a round in the chamber, walked into the hallway, and opened fire upon the roaches. Running over, James helped her, and while her aim was off, he had to admit she was a natural with the piece. Moving on, the two eventually made it to the end, the cavernous room that served as their shelter when the bombs began to drop, God knows how long ago. Two more skeletons awaited by the exit console, like they were fleeing something.

Noticing his wife looking around the area, Jams observed her before she leaned over and picked up the arm of a skeleton. Realizing the Pip-Boy was her objective, he looked to the other one and also grabbed it. As he was putting his on and testing the systems, Beth plugged hers into the console, and began working on opening the door. Rusty metal scraped upon metal, and the cavern shook with life. Looking back, Beth flashed that same smile that drove him crazy when they first met. Together, they crossed the bridge and entered the elevator. As it rose, James placed his hand upon Beth's shoulder.

"No matter what, we will find him," he said. Looking back, her eyes showed the same anger and sorrow as before. But now, he could see hope as well.

The light was blinding. Beth had to wait for her eyes to adjust. When she could see, she gasped. Before them, the land they once called home was a tattered, withered land. It looked dead.

"We aren't in Kansas anymore," she muttered, and James began walking back to their old neighborhood. Looking once more, she began to follow him. "So, think anyone is left?"

"Yeah, of course," he stated, a slight tone of pleading in his voice. "It's impossible to carpet bomb the whole nation, and there are other vaults."

"I guess you got a point," she said. The walk down the hill to their home was somber. Cars, old trash, and more littered the area. Some homes had holes in the holes in the roofs and walls, and others had even collapsed upon themselves. The couple had kept their arms at the ready, with James obviously going back to his time in war, and Beth was feeling out of place. Two blue ghosts, they treaded silently down the street to their old house. Soaking in the moment, the two were suddenly caught off guard by a familiar, British voice.

"Why, is it you? Mr. James, Mrs. Beth! You're alive," from the house, Codsworth floated over. He was rusty, his original silver plating worn away. Banged and scratched here and there. He had been through a lot, but he seemed chipper.

"Hey pal, good to seeya," said James, holstering his pistol. Beth followed suit, as her husband asked, "Have you noticed a group of people coming through here?"

"Why, no sir, I've been alone since the bombs fell," Codsworth said, fidgeting slightly. "Where is Shaun? Will he be joining us?"

"No," Beth said, tightening her fists as James looked down. "Someone came, and took him. Codsworth, please, if you had seen him, or anyone, please, tell us."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I had not," he said. "But I will be happy to help you search for clues. Before that, however, might I interest you in any food? I'd imagine you are hungry, you are late for dinner by about 200 years."

"The hell?"

"200?"

"Well, closer to 210, actually," Codsoworth said, fidgeting even more. Kneeling, James looked him in the eye.

"Pal, what's wrong?"

"Well…it's been awful! 200 years, alone," Codsworth said, turning away. "And now master Shaun…it's hopeless, isn't it?"

"No," Beth said, determined. "We will pull through this. And Codsworth, we are here now."

Seemingly perked up, the Mr. Handy zipped off, and James watched.

"I'll go with him, see if you can salvage anything from the house," was all he said before following the mechanical butler. Walking in the house, a wave of nostalgia washed over her. The living room was destroyed. The kitchen in shambles. Walking down the hall, she found Shaun's old crib, a single rocket remaining, and crooked. Biting back the tears, she bagan to clean. Her mother always said, "When life is a mess, a bit of spring cleaning can fix that." Well, even a half hour later, she felt no better, although the house now looked a bit more habitable. Eventually, James returned, toting a backpack filled with supplies.

"No luck so far," he said, his face somewhat crestfallen. "But Codsworth says there are people over in Concord, and maybe they will be able to help. I should be back around nightfall."

"I'm coming with you," she said, beginning to stand. Blocking her way, James shook his head.

"Please, stay. Codsworth needs you," he said. Apparently, her anger was evident, and he raised his hands. "Besides, if I run into any trouble, I can probably work better if I only half to look after myself. Codsworth says this is an incredibly different world. I don't even know what I will be running into."

"So, I'm just a burden?"

"No," he said. "But think about it this way: what if someone else comes along while we are gone? We need to keep this place. Sounds like safety is hard to come by, may as well keep it."

Considering his words, she eventually nodded. Crossing her arms, she looked out of the window. Taking her chin in his hand, James leaned in and kissed her softly. She eventually gave in and kissed back. A moment later, she broke apart.

"Just, come back, okay? I don't know if I can stand losing you as well," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

"I promise," he said. "I'll also see about finding any food while I'm gone. But take Codsworth with you to Old Man Stan's basement. He may have been crotchety, but maybe he has some supplies in that old cellar." Nodding, the both left the house, and trudged on in opposite directions.

This was the first day of the rest of their lives. Ironically, it would take them the end of the world to see the truth of their old lives, but for now, their only concern was to find their son, and reunite their family.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2: Just a Minute**_

 _ **(Hey guys, I hope y'all are enjoying the new story. As always, any input is welcome. I do not own Fallout.)**_

James stepped out of the Red Rocket, trading in his Vault Suit for a less conspicuous set of leathers. Cracking his neck, he looked out at the mole rat corpses. This place could have also made a useful fallback area, but he would have to pull the dead creatures away, in case there were any other animals nearby. Whistling for his new canine friend, he made his way towards Concord. Noticing some wild fruits growing behind a house, he stopped quickly to grab some for his pack, then continued. Halting, he listened for a moment, and could distinctly hear gunshots. Readying his pistol, he jogged over, with the dog on his heel.

Upon turning a corner, he saw some hardly dressed men and women assaulting the old museum, with the occasional return fire coming from an upper floor. Acting on instinct, he took aim at the attackers and began to fire. Taking cover once they noticed his presence, he began to remember his time in Alaska. These men may have been dangerous, but they were untrained and undisciplined, and couldn't hold a candle to the Chinese. Between him and whoever was in the building, the raiders eventually dispersed, and James double timed over, stooping at the door to pick up some interesting laser piece that had a crank handle. If anything, it reminded him of a musket. Either way, he reckoned it had more range than his pistol. Walking in, he had to duck, as some raiders had beaten him inside. Taking aim, he fired his new toy, and a crimson streak darted across the room, striking the raider dead. With his new canine companion, James pushed through the exhibits, hearing recordings meant to replicate the frustrations of the American people, and had to fight the urge to shoot the mannequins donning red coats.

Eventually, James reached the group holding up in the office, and was surprised. Only five people, one an old woman, and another suffering depression from the looks of it. An angry woman. A mechanic. And a darker man with a scar, armed with a similar weapon as the one James was using.

"You, my friend, have impeccable timing," said the last man, likely the leader. "I'm Preston Garvey, and I'm with the Minutemen."

"Minutemen? Great, now I've gone back in time," James muttered.

"Ready to help at a minute's notice," the man said, smiling. "But right now, we could use some help."

"Alright," James said, sighing. "What's the plan?" Preston stepped to the side, allowing the final man to step forward. Due to his demeanor, practical mechanics attire, and hair, James would've had him pegged for a greaser before the world went to hell.

"Hey, Name's Sturges, nice to meetya," he said. "Now, u on the roof, there is a crashed vertbird, with an operational minigun."

"Well, if it's crashed, how can we used it?" Gears turning in his head, James was trying to figure it out.

"Well, there is also a cherry set of T-45 power armor. With a power supply, you can use it to rip out the minigun, and even the playing field with those pricks," Sturges said. "There should be a fusion core in the basement. Preston and I will keep you covered from here, not that you'll likely need it."

"Gotchya," James said, smiling ear to ear. "Sounds like a blast." Despite his service, he never really got to use power armor. Once in training, but most of his time in the field was basic infantry, nothing glamorous at all. Ignoring the other occupants in the room, the former solider bolted down the stairs, giddy as a school boy.

Upon finding the generator, he felt his heart sink lightly. It was locked off. If he had any tools, he could have picked the lock, but he had yet to find any picks or pins. Off to the side, he saw a terminal, and gulped. He once had to reset a terminal at home while Beth was in the office. It took him 3 hours. Opening the hacking screen, the anxious man read all of the potential passwords. On a haunch, he selected 'PASSWORD'. When he heard the gate unlock, he couldn't help but laugh. Quickly grabbing the core, which seemed to be only half charged. Shrugging, he sped up the stairs, passing the tire group once more, before stepping onto the roof, the rusty power armor before him bringing back his time in the trenches once more. Picking up a holotape from a table, he pocketed it before inserting the core. Taking a moment to admire the armor set before him, he stretched before climbing in, and the world seemed to have changed dramatically.

A yellow Heads Up Display monitored his vitals, as well as the fusion core's power (which he was right about), reserve stamina, and more. Moving his arms, he realized how right this felt. Taking an experimental step, he realized how addicted he was. He felt unstoppable. Walking in an unsure manner to the minigun, he ripped it off with only a little effort. Approaching the edge, he took aim at the raiders, and commenced raining lead upon the malicious force. Stepping off of the roof, he landed on the ground, hard. The support system of the suit made sure that the fall didn't injure him, even if he did feel a bit winded. Getting back up, he took aim again and began working on the raiders again.

"I got no strings, to hold me down," he said softly to calm him as he undertook his deadly work. Humming the rest of the tune, he proceeded down the road, taking the small arms fire as if he were a tank. He may have given up his mobility, but he felt it more than worth it. Reaching halfway down the street, both Minuteman and Raider paused briefly as a tunnel to the end of the street was torn open, and a large, scaly hand reached out.

James watched in horror as this…thing crawled from the sewers. Easily 10 feet tall, horned, and fanged, it let out a roar as it charged the raiders, using ginormous claws to tear them asunder. Holding his ground, James evaluated the area, and began firing at a truck hallway between him and whatever the hell this thing was. After finishing off the raiders, it turned to face James, and charged him. Thankfully, the truck exploded right when the creature passed it, knocking it down and across the street. Breathing a sigh, James turned and began to walk back to the museum, before stopping. Some sixth sense told him to look back, and he was rewarded by being tackled by the demonic figure.

Pinned down, he tried to cover his face as the beast swiped at him, the armor being the only thing that kept him alive up to this point. Preston and the others were trying to shoot it, but it seemed to not want to go down. As it came down with what looked like a final stab, James caught its hand, and with every ounce of strength, twisted until he heard a sickening 'CRACK' and shoved the monster off of him. As it tried to recover, James jumped to his feet, maneuvered behind it and leapt on its back. Grasping it by the horns, the veteran once again called upon his strength, twisting this primal head. To no avail, it reached behind itself with its functioning hand, but was having no success. At last, another 'CRACK' resounded through the war torn streets, and the brute finally fell. For good measure, James stomped its head in to ensure it would stay down this time.

Limping inside, he was greeted by the Minutemen, and Preston offered James a bag. Opening it, he found a collection of old, but identifiable, Nuka Cola bottle caps. Looking quizzically at the paragon, he removed his helmet.

"I figured for your help, you deserved some payment. Especially after that bit with the Deathclaw," Preston said, resting his on laser weapon against the wall. "So, what did bring you this way?

"Well," James said, letting the surreal feeling fade. It didn't. "I'm looking for my son…" 

Beth and Codsworth spent hours cleaning the area. Even managing to set up two mattresses side by side in their old bedroom, the former lawyer moseyed on over to the old cellar, finding inside an old bed, some supplies, three gold ingots, and a locked off safe. Cursing, she just gathered the ingots and supplies she could see. James was the one who could crack locks. He may not have been proud to admit it, but he came from a rough neighborhood, and had to learn some things to make it to enlistment age to get out of that life.

Exiting the cellar, she noticed a fallen tree branch leaning against the roof. Curious for a better view, she climbed cautiously up the log, and was astonished. The neighborhood looked almost…natural. Sure, there were manmade constructs. And they were in disrepair. But it was obvious that there was little to no human activity here for two hundred years. It had almost a stark beauty. Seeing a shade of green in the corner of her eye, she realized there was a duffel bag on the roof. Carefully edging over, she opened it. Inside, she found some ammunition, a crude looking pipe rifle, a gas mask, and a manual on turrets.

Climbing down, Beth studied the manual once back in the house. She wasn't an engineer…by degree. But the scientific world had held some interest for her, and she did study basic mechanical engineering for a brief time before deciding to pursue a legal career. Going over this, she was positive she could have made a turret to keep an eye on the area in the event both she and James had to depart.

Placing the piece on a desk, she trudged over to Shaun's old room. It was the only one in the house she had not taken some steps to tidying up. His crib was sturdy, but obviously weathered after all these years. Fighting back tears, she turned to find Codsworth floating in the doorway.

"Miss Beth," he said, his robotic voice rang in sympathy. "I'm sure you will find him. Between the skills you and Mr. James possess, I know you can. In fact, I know you will. After all, love is a heck of a power, if I may say so."

"Thanks, Codsworth," she said, wiping away a silent tear. "Just…we woke up 200 years later. Hell, who's to say Shaun is even alive? He may have died 100 years ago for all we know. It just seems hopeless…"

"With all due respect, ma'am," he said, rotating his appendages, "you shall never know unless you try."

"Well, you got me there," she said, softly smiling. "Thanks, pal. I needed that."

"Never a problem, ma'am," the butler said cheerfully. "Now, can I perhaps prepare a meal for you? I do have some Cram on hand. Or Sugar Bombs, if you don't mind dry cereal. Maybe even a Radstag steak, if I am able to find any nearby."

"Wait, those prewar foods are still good? I find that hard to believe," Beth stammered, making her disbelief evident. "And the hell is a Radstag?"

"Well, turns out that all that processing made the food last all this time, although it typically has traces of radiation," Codsworth explained patiently. "And as for those creatures, they are essentially what deer evolved into overtime. On occasion, they would pass through the streets of the town, but now that you and the Mr. are back, that may no longer be the case."

"Whatever is on hand will do, thank you," Beth said, then collapsed against the wall. She was exhausted. Honestly, she had no clue how James was out there, fighting for all she knew. She made a mental note to ask him for advice on how to fight, so she could at least defend herself. Crawling over to the mattress, she quickly blinked into sleep, her old chrome companion standing vigil over her as she slept.

Her dreams were fragmented. She saw James, and Shaun. An explosion. A group of people resting at an old gas station, despite thick tension. A dark coat, dancing in the shadows. Jolting awake in a cold sweat, she swallowed and looked out of the window. It looked to be early morning. Around 3:00 am, if she had to guess from years of all-nighters. At her side, a bowl of beans was steaming, with a chilled bottle of Nuka Cola. Damn, Codsworth sure knew what he was doing. Wolfing down the meal, she realized that this was her first time eating in over 200 years. It felt unreal. Standing, she looked out. It was disheartening that James had yet to return. Lighting a fire in the old fireplace, she huddled close to keep the cold at bay. Going to her old room, she found an old, cyan trench coat and donned it. It actually went well with her vault suit. Returning to her heart, she felt a notable difference in temperature. She started drifting off to sleep again before she felt it.

The air became….wrong. Almost tainted. An electrical crackle filled the air with a toxic hum, and she bolted up. A green hue filled her vision, and she knew she had to get out of here. Unsure of whether or not it would help, Beth clumsily slipped in her gas mask. It pulled her hair, and it had an unusual smell on the inside, but she felt a little better just having it on. At the very least, it was slowing whatever was going on. Grabbing the rifle by her side, she stumbled out of the house, and found Codsworth by the root cellar.

"Mrs. Beth, hurry, these radiation storms are no fun to sit through," the bot butler exclaimed, even more scared than the human who could be damaged by the situation. "Trust me, the cellar will be safer than the house!" Inclined to agree, the former lawyer threw opened the door, allowing Codsworth in before diving in and slamming it behind her. An eerie glow filled the shelter, and she removed her mask, breathing even easier. While it did help with the air, it was still constrictive. And it made a mess of her hair. Sitting on the bed, she placed her face in her hands.

"Codsworth, what was that?"

"A radiation storm, ma'am," he said, now noticeably calmer that she was safer. "They occasionally roll in from the southwest. That area appears to have taken the brunt of the bombs from that day, and is still heavily irradiated."

"Well, how long do these usually last?"

"A few hours, at most. Well, at least now you are safe. Granted, it likely wouldn't have been overly harmful to stay out there. However, prolonged exposure certainly would not have been beneficial for you."

Sighing, Beth laid back and groaned. This was certain to be a new experience. Even the environment was out to kill her. Or, rather, anything. It didn't care, it just did. As Mother Nature always acted. Just this time, an unhealthy glow or potential third limb were involved.

Dozing off, she began to slip back into sleep before jolting awake. The cellar was thrown open, and a shadow was cast in, contrasting the early morning light. Grabbing the pipe rifle, Beth braced herself, ready to shoot. She didn't.

"Beth, you down here? Don't shoot, it's me," Aaron said, his voice having some metallic tone, like it was crackling over an intercom. "Storm's over, babe. It's safe, now."


End file.
